Burnt Popcorn
by tomybabyboywithlove
Summary: "My brother is in that building." My sun, and my earth, and my air, and my everything is in that building./This is more implied wincest than anything else.


"Find anything in the apartment?"

"Nothing. No hex bags, no satanic alter, and no cursed objects. It looks like a regular apartment Dean, nothing weird at all." Even as he talks Dean can hear Sam moving things around, probably going through it all a second time, worried that he missed something. He smiles fondly at the thought, loving Sam's little quirks, even if they might slow them down a bit. "How 'bout you, did the witness know anything?"

"Zilch. Says he was too plastered last night to remember anything. Not sure if I believe him though, I feel like—"Dean stops, a loud blaring siren playing in the background and traveling through the phone speaker. "The hell is that?"

Sam pauses before answering, and the sound of his searching stops. "I think it's the fire alarm. I hear people leaving the building."

"Well, get your ass outta there! Jesus Sam, are you an idiot?" Dean whisper yells, wandering a bit farther away from the witness so he can't be heard.

Sam starts to grumble about how, no, he's not an idiot, but Dean can hear him gathering his things, and heading for the door. He has to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief.

He's listening to the faint sound of Sam's footsteps, each one working to remove the little knots of tension that had worked their way into Dean's body at the mention of a fire, when there is another pause. The footsteps stop. "Hold on, I think I hear someone calling for help."

"Don't, Sammy."

Sam lets out an annoyed sigh. "You don't even know what I was gonna do."

"The hell I don't!" Dean growls back, straining to keep his voice down. "You're gonna go try and save them and risk your life for someone you don't even know. Don't."

"Dean…" Sam says, like _he's _the one being ridiculous; like he's the one about to do something stupid and reckless.

"The firemen will deal with it, alright? Just get out of there. Don't be a hero."

"Look, it'll only take a second and I don't even think the fire's that bad. Someone probably just burnt some popcorn or something, triggered the alarm. I just wanna make sure they're alright." Sam argues, and he's using the voice that says he's already doing what Dean said not to, and there's no point in trying to talk he out of it.

But hell if he's not gonna try.

"Sam, I'm not kidding, get your ass outta—" Dean starts, but doesn't finish; the distinctive sound of the dial tone playing over the line. Damn it.

Dean makes some vague excuse to the witness about another lead, and then books it out of there and to his car, driving a little faster than he'd usually risk in his baby but all he can think about is Sam and _what if? _What if it isn't just some burnt popcorn, what if Sam is in trouble and needs his help, what if he doesn't make it in time?

That last one is not a thought he allows himself to entertain for long, pressing down on the gas, urging the car to go faster.

He can smell the smoke from almost five miles away, sickeningly familiar, the thought _burnt popcorn _flitting hauntingly through his mind. He doesn't actually see the smoke until he's closer, only one mile between him and fire, and he knows things are worse than Sam described.

When he can finally see it, he lets out a weak cry.

The fire consumes the entire building, already at the top floor yet still reaching out and licking at the sky. Like hell is trying to use it as a ladder and infiltrate heaven.

There are fire trucks parked in front of it, men running around with hoses and it's not so much that they are trying to put the fire out as they are keeping it at bay. A huge group of people is gathered in front, watching the tragedy unfold before their eyes.

Dean doesn't even bother to pull up to the curb, just stops in the middle of the road and gets out, running towards the people. Sam is tall enough that Dean would see him were he in the crowd and even if he couldn't Dean seems to have a 'Sam Homing System' or something so if Sam was out there he would have known.

He's not though which means there's only one other possibility because Sam wouldn't have left, would have known Dean was on his way, that he was coming for him.

Pushing through the crowd gathered around the building, Dean's only thoughts are of Sammy and getting to him, making sure he's safe, protecting him. He runs towards the building but doesn't make if far before someone is grabbing him, firm hands gripping his shoulders, a large older man holding him back. "Whoa son, where do you think you're going?"

"My brother is in that building." _My sun, and my earth, and my air, and my _everything_ is in that building. _

How important Sam is to Dean must show on his face because the man's expression softens, but he does not loosen his grip on Dean's shoulders. "I'm sorry." He tells Dean, and means it. Sorrow and pity clear in his eyes.

Pity won't help him though, won't get Sammy out of that building and away from that fire. It won't make Sammy safe. He feels four again, and he's standing on the front lawn, watching his house burn to the ground. Only this time he's not holding Sam.

"You have to let me go. I've got to save him! _Please._" And he's begging now, pleading with this man to understand that it doesn't matter if running into that building is just a suicide mission because his life will be nothing without Sammy in it. But he doesn't -and he could never- understand just how much Sam mean's to him.

"Son," he starts. "There ain't nothin' you can do that the firemen trained to handle these situations can't. Best leave this to the professionals." His voice is comforting and reasonable, telling Dean something that he'd already known, really.

Years of training and experience as a hunter couldn't protect him against a fire, knowing how to shoot fifty different types of guns won't save his Sammy. Not this time.

This time, Dean has to trust that the people trained for the situation will be able to handle it, that they'll be able to get his brother out safe. He feels more useless than he's felt in years, but he stops fighting.

Dean's been in enough burning buildings to know the smoke is probably crawling into Sam's lungs, and soot and ash are stinging his eyes, and it's terribly unbearably hot. He feels like he can't breathe when he thinks about it, like the smoke has somehow crept into his lungs and is choking him too.

As time goes on and the fire rages and it becomes less and less likely that Sam will make it out, he can feel the man looking at him with more and more pity. Dean wants to turn around and punch him, to tell him he doesn't need his pity because Sam is _going_ to walk out of that building. He wants to yell that he wouldn't have survived half the things Sam has, and he's seen things thousands of time scarier than a fucking fire, and he will get out of there alive.

He has to because Dean doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't, but he knows it will be idiotic and dangerous and that Sam would completely disapprove of it, and maybe that'd be part of the reason he'd do it. He tries not to think of that though, because Sam's gonna make it out.

He has to.

A/N: Please read the notes to this fic (link on my profile,) which has notes about the possibility of a continuation.


End file.
